


Petrichor

by CaiPrince13



Series: Petrichor: Merlin Ballet AU [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternative Universe - No Magic, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 06:19:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaiPrince13/pseuds/CaiPrince13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is a premier danseur for the Camelot Dance Company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KinFletcher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KinFletcher/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Petite Mort](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016279) by [KinFletcher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KinFletcher/pseuds/KinFletcher). 



> If you are curious about the progress of this fanfiction, go ahead and comment, but I will also try to keep my progress updated on my [Writing Tumblr](http://caiprince13writing.tumblr.com/).
> 
> This is a birthday present for my dear friend Kinsara!
> 
>  
> 
> [See the picture on deviantART!](http://fav.me/d61e9be)
> 
>  
> 
> Dear Kin,
> 
> I started out wanting to do a picture of your ballet AU and then I wanted to write a little scene for it. I soon realized that I didn't really know that much about your AU and it ended up being an entirely new ballet AU story with around ten parts. I hope you like it anyway!
> 
> Lots of Love and Birthday Wishes,  
> Cai Prince
> 
>  
> 
> [See all of the art for this piece here.](http://taraprince.deviantart.com/gallery/43181972)

 

Merlin watched Arthur and Gwen practice the act three pas de deux in the mirror as he warmed up at the barre.  Arthur Pendragon was a well known name in the ballet world, but Guinevere Brenhines had popped up out of the framework.  Her history was humble, and no one had expected her to be taken on by Camelot Dance Company or that she would rise to the top within a few short years.  Merlin could appreciate her talent.  She possessed a beauty in her performance with which even Morgana LeFay could not compare, even as technically perfect as she was.

“Merlin!” Arthur called after a while, cheeks flushed from exertion and hair sticking to his forehead.  Merlin glanced over, his heart doing a nervous jig in his chest as he swung his leg from the barre and walked over to where Arthur was going over a new bit of choreography with the corps de ballet.  

“Did you need something?” Merlin asked as he stopped in front of the premier danseur.  Arthur rolled his eyes.

“No,” he said sarcastically, “I just like the sound of your name on my tongue.”

Merlin hoped his face didn’t turn as red as it felt as he thought about that, eyes flickering treacherously down to Arthur’s mouth.  Merlin was fairly comfortable in the fact that he was gay, but he couldn’t afford to form an attraction to anyone in the company and especially not Arthur Pendragon.  Besides that, it was something that he had to keep quiet.  He knew the director’s feelings on the matter.  It didn’t matter what the company’s discrimination policy was, Uther Pendragon would be furious to find out that Merlin was crushing on one of his dancers, let alone his son.   It was reason enough that he could lose his job and the dream that he was only beginning to achieve.

Usually, Merlin was pretty good about separating work and personal life, but there was just something about Arthur.  It was no stretch to see why Merlin admired him.  As much of a donkey’s ass as he could be, he was an amazing dancer.  On some level, Merlin realized that there was even more to him than that.  He was a leader in every sense of the word, and had a knack for choreography that Merlin suspected would surpass that of his father’s when he retired from dancing.

“Merlin!” Arthur snapped, bringing Merlin out of his daze.  “Were you even listening?”

“Uh, sorry, what?” Merlin stammered.  Arthur rolled his eyes and and gestured to the other dancers who were staring at him expectantly.

“You remember what we worked on last night, right?” he asked, putting his hands on his hips in a way that made Merlin feel like the newbie again, despite the fact that he had just become a premier.

“Yes,” he said slowly.  The two of them had been at the studio late the previous night, Merlin practicing his solo for _Petrichor_ , an abstract ballet written by a group of art students in New York.  It was his first role as a premier and he was absolutely focused on preforming it perfectly.  Arthur had called him over after a while and insisted that he help him block the choreography for a duet in the second act.  He remembered the choreography.  He never forgot Arthur’s choreography.

“Then help me show them,” Arthur said with faux patience and a condescending look.  Merlin nodded and got into place, as Arthur started the music.  The melody started slow, and cautious as Arthur moved with perfect, precise fluidity.  Merlin followed, movements mimicking and contrasting, as his focus narrowed to a point.  Merlin and Arthur circled almost sensually as the music built in a crescendo like the beat of rain against glass.  So too, did their movements, building to an almost violent ebb and flow.

His full awareness was put into every stretch of muscle and pull of tendon.   The air burned in his lungs as he and Arthur sparred, their movements spiraling in and adjusting until they were a single entity on the floor.  No longer two men, but one, a single organism acting and reacting in perfect synchronization.

When they ended, Merlin could feel his heart hammering in his chest, only partially because of the exertion.  Their gazes held for a moment before Arthur stepped back, turning to face the other dancers.  Fairly certain that Arthur could handle it from there, he moved across the studio to practice some of the jumps in his solo.  He caught Morgana’s eye and gave her a small smile.  She nodded and walked over to him.

“You and Arthur work well together,” she said, in a way that Merlin would almost call probing, though for what, he wasn’t sure.

“He’s a talented dancer,” Merlin laughed, “you know that as well as I do.”

“He is,” she said stiffly, giving Arthur a cool look.  Merlin sighed.  The two had recently broken up, or more aptly, Morgana had been dumped for Gwen, but Merlin thought that his friend’s bitterness had more to do with her pride than a broken heart.  In fact, he was almost positive that her love for Arthur was no more than that of a sister for her brother.  She and Merlin shared the same secret, after all.  Neither was particularly interested in the opposite sex.  Not that Morgana knew that, because while he loved her dearly, he didn’t particularly trust her moral character.

“But so are you,” Merlin said quickly, appealing to her vanity.  She smiled and shook her head, eyes flitting over to Gwen.  “You don’t have to compete with her, you know,” he said, guessing where her thoughts were going.  Morgana shrugged than patted him on the shoulder before sauntering over to the barre.  Merlin shook his head, catching Arthur’s eyes in the mirror, before the blond turned quickly away as though he had been caught eavesdropping.  Merlin smiled as he returned to his work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are really less like chapters and more like scenes, but they're supposed to be companion pieces for the pictures, so I guess that's all right.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it! As always, comments and critique are more than welcome!
> 
> [See Picture Here](http://fav.me/d61sdak)

 

On Sunday morning, Merlin entered the studio to the sound of shrill argument.  Trying to ignore the altercation, Merlin slunk past the room to find an unused space.  He was barely past the doors to the main studio when Morgana’s voice called his name loudly, stopping him in his tracks.

“. . . Merlin!”

“For god’s sake, Morgana,” Arthur said as Merlin realized that he hadn’t been noticed, but rather was part of the argument.  He wasn’t sure which was worse.  “I don’t know why you keep bringing him up!”

“I’m not, you’re the one who will focus on nothing else,” she cried.  Arthur made an indignant noise.

“This isn’t about him.  It’s not about Gwen, either,” he interrupted when Morgana tried to speak, “For the last time, we aren’t even dating.  Things didn’t work out because of the way we are with each other, stop blaming it on other people!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.  We were good together, we were perfect, why don’t you understand?”

“How were we perfect, Morgana?  You don’t love me, we never agree with one another, and the only thing we have in common is ballet,” he said in irritation.

“What else matters?” she growled.  “We dance, that’s what matters, and when we do, we’re perfect.”

“I don’t care about being perfect, I don’t want a dance partner, Morgana, I don’t need a ballerina,” he snapped.  Morgana gave a cruel little laugh that sent chills down Merlin’s spine.

“I know.  You don’t want a ballerina, you’re more interested in the danseurs,” she spat.  “You probably want to get your hands all over Merlin, don’t you?  I saw how you danced with him?  What would your father say?”  That made Merlin’s heart jump in his chest, even though he knew that Arthur couldn’t possibly be interested in him.

“Shut up, you foolish woman,” Arthur commanded in a harsh tone that made Merlin flinch.  Of course Arthur would be upset, it wasn’t like Uther had ever been quiet about his views on homosexuality.  

Merlin knew he should sneak away.  This was none of his business, and nothing he wanted to hear, but for some reason his feet were glued to the floor.  That was, until he heard a pair of angry footsteps marching toward the door, he scampered back a few paces before they flew open, making him jump.

Merlin smiled broadly at Arthur, pretending not to have heard anything, but Arthur just glared, face red as he stormed out of the building.  A sob drew his attention back to the studio.  Trying to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach, he quietly rapped his knuckles against the door.  Morgana didn’t look up from where she was sitting on the floor, face buried in her knees.  If he was honest, he thought that Morgana was the one in the wrong on this, but she was his friend and maybe he could make her understand.

“Morgana?” he asked, walking over and sitting down beside her.  She looked up, eyes puffy and red.

“Why does this have to be so complicated?  Even if we aren’t the perfect romance novel, is it that hard to pretend?” she said, drawing the sleeve of her oversized green sweater across her eyes.  “I’ve been pretending for years, I don’t understand why he can’t.  We were the perfect couple, Merlin.  It’s all Gwen’s fault.”

“How is it Gwen’s fault?” Merlin asked, putting a hand awkwardly on Morgana’s shoulder.

“She came and she— she usurped my throne,” Morgana said, and in a weird way, Merlin knew what she meant.  She had been getting more and more of the leading roles and maybe Arthur’s infatuation with her was the last straw for Morgana.

“Ballet is a competitive occupation,” Merlin reasoned, “she has talent, but you’re still the prima ballerina.”  Morgana sniffled, but gave him a small smile.

“But with Arthur by her side, she’ll really surpass me,” she said, her face hardening into something frightening.  “I won’t let that happen.  Not ever.”

“You don’t need Arthur, Morgana,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“He’s the king of this place, you know that.  Uther’s son, and one of the best dancers of the century, you _know_ that none of us compare,” she said, and it was so true that Merlin couldn’t really argue.  Morgana was a beautiful dancer, all of them were, they made it into CDC after all, but Arthur was . . . something else.

“Maybe, but you can’t force him to love you and stay with you,” he said.  Morgana glared at him.

“I’m not trying to!  I don’t care about Arhtur, I care about ballet, it’s what I _live_ for,” she said, voice nearing a yell.  Merlin jumped a little as she stood, glaring down at him.

“I know, Morgana, you’re not alone,” he said.  She shook her head.

“You don’t understand, Merlin.  You’re a good friend, but you can never understand.”

“Morgana,” he said.

“Stop, Merlin,” she demanded, “I can’t lose this, okay.  I don’t care what it takes, I will not let them take this away from me!”

Merlin watched helplessly as she thundered out the door, dark hair swinging behind her.  He just hoped that she wasn’t going to do anything stupid.


	3. Chapter 3

 

Merlin sat speechless for a few moments before sighing and going to change into dance clothes.  After warming up with a little free-form, he began perfecting the movement of his solo before he saw Uther again, which probably meant some changes in choreography.  After a while, Gwaine, Percival and a couple of the corps de ballet showed up.  

By the time Merlin decided to call it quits for the day and go home, Gwaine had strong-armed him into watching him do Merlin’s solo four times in between his actual parts.  Merlin dawdled in the changing room, allowing the others to filter out as he dressed in a haze, thinking about what he had overheard that morning.  He must have spaced out because when Gwaine clapped a hand on his shoulder, he jumped about a foot in the air.

“Don’t think too hard or you might strain something,” he teased.

“Well one of us has to,” Merlin returned.  Gwaine laughed but then sobered and gave Merlin an unwarranted look of concern.

“Really, though,” Gwaine said, “are you all right?  I know there’s been a lot of drama recently.”

“I’m fine,” he said grinning with a shake of his head.  It was true that there was drama, but it had nothing to do with him so long as it didn’t affect the performance and the dancers were all professionals so that wasn’t likely to happen.

“If you say so, but you’re the only one.  Everyone’s been acting oddly, even Arthur.  Actually, especially Arthur.”

“What’s wrong with Arthur?” Merlin asked, trying for nonchalant.  He thought he pulled it off.

“I don’t know, he’s just been acting kind of . . . distracted.  I’ve heard rumors,” Gwaine said, grinning conspiratorially.  Merlin rolled his eyes.

“You shouldn’t listen to rumors,” he said.

“You hear things in such close quarters,” Gwaine replied with a shrug, “Anyway, after Arthur cut it off with Morgana, I hear he asked Gwen out.”

“Everyone’s heard that,” Merlin said, “and no one knows if it’s true.”

“Yes, but did you hear that she turned him down?  Gwen’s heart belongs to our good Lancelot,” Gwaine informed him, swinging his duffle over a shoulder.  Merlin frowned.

“Lancelot?  I thought . . . so the knight Gwen is always going on about is Lancelot?”

“Why?”  Gwaine said, “It doesn’t matter since Lance has someone else in mind.”

“Who do I have in mind?” someone called from behind.  Gwaine, turned, clapping Lancelot on the back before heading out, leaving Merlin to explain their inexcusable bout of gossip.  Merlin glared, but Gwaine just waved, grin plastered on his face.

“Nothing,” Merlin said, rolling his eyes, “Gwaine was just gossiping about various love lives.”

“Ah,” Lance said with that surprisingly gentle smile.  “But you already know about my love life, it can’t be very interesting.”

“No,” Merlin said, though a his face cracked into a smile that made Lancelot lift a questioning brow.  “But I hear Gwen isn’t as disinterested as you supposed her to be.  I have it from a very reliable source.”

“Then not from Gwaine, because he doesn’t know what the word means,” Lancelot said, shaking his head fondly.  Merlin shrugged.

“It might be true, you know,” Merlin said.  And he hoped it was.  He hoped that his friends could find happiness, and though Gwen had said nothing to Merlin, if she did return Lancelot’s affection, then the two of them would make a wonderful pair.  At the same time, though, Merlin couldn’t help but feel sorry for Arthur.

“I’m not so sure,” Lancelot said, carefully folding his clothes into a huge red duffle with the CDC triple crown on the side in an obnoxious shade of yellow that was supposed to pass off as gold.

“You’ll never know if you don’t ask her,” Merlin pointed out.  That gained him a stern look from Lancelot and he shrugged.

“I could say the same to you.”

“I— no, that’s different, completely and utterly impossible.  False comparison, there,” he stammered, turning from Lancelot and fiddling with the jacket in his locker.

“If you say so,” Lancelot said, the smile clear in his voice.  “Though, you don’t see the way he looks at you when you’re dancing.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Merlin said, “He’s probably just judging my fouetté jeté.”

“There’s a lot to judge,” Arthur said casually from behind them.  Merlin whipped around, hoping that he had not overheard anything.

“What are you doing here?” Merlin asked.  Arthur raised an eyebrow, and crossed his arms.

“Am I not permitted the use of the dressing rooms anymore?” he asked.  Merlin shook his head quickly.

“No, I didn’t mean that, only I thought—” _that you would want to avoid me after this morning._   Only, he couldn’t say that. “Uh, never mind, it was nothing,” he continued, turning back to his locker and hoping that his ears weren’t as red as they felt.  Lancelot clapped him on the back before dismissing himself, and Merlin wondered briefly why things were incrementally getting worse and worse in the same pattern.  Curse?  Fate?  Who knew, but he wanted a word with whoever was in charge.

“Merlin, I know you overheard us this morning,” he said awkwardly, obviously trying to ask Merlin to keep the fact that he and Morgana had been arguing to himself, “but you should know that it’s not — I mean, it probably _is_ what you think, but I —“

“Don’t, there’s no need to talk about it,” he cut in, flushing.  He shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, but at least Arthur didn’t seem to have heard the rest of his and Lancelot’s conversation, though Merlin couldn’t seem to meet his eyes.  A strange expression flashed across Arthur’s face as the two stood for a painful couple of minutes in a wretched silence.

Finally Arthur sighed and glared at him.  “I always thought that silence would be a blessing with you, but I find it just as irritating.  You’re a riddle, Merlin.”

“A riddle?” Merlin asked, still avoiding his gaze.

“Yes, but I’ve grown to quite like you,” he said, his tone oddly soft.

“Yeah?” Merlin said maybe a little breathlessly as his heart thudded in his chest.  Arthur seemed to hear what he had said and shrugged defensively.

“Now I realize you’re not as big a fool as you look.”  Merlin snorted and shook his head.  This he could do, the banter was as familiar to him as the back of his hand.

“Yeah, I feel the same.  Now that I realize you’re not as arrogant as you sound.”

“You still think I’m arrogant.”

“No.  More . . . supercilious,” he said, tapping his chin as though in thought as he turned to grab his bag and leave the building, Arthur following as he did so.

“That’s a big word, Merlin!” he said with false exuberance, “Sure you know what it means?”

“Condescending,” Merlin said after a beat.

“Very good!” Arthur praised, nodding.

“Patronizing.”

“Doesn’t quite mean that,” Arthur said.

“No, these are other things that you are,” Merlin said, grinning as he strolled merrily out the heavy front door which closed unceremoniously in Arthur’s face.

“Hang on,” Arthur said, speeding to keep up.

“Overbearing,” Merlin called loudly enough that a few people glanced over to stare at them.

“Shh!” Arthur hissed.

“You’re very overbearing!” Merlin continued gleefully.

“ _Merlin_ ,” he growled.

“You wanted me to talk!” Merlin said, trying to keep from laughing.  Arthur cuffed him upside the head, but the unease from earlier seemed to have vanished.  It was something, at least.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Arthur point of view now, just to keep things interesting.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! As always, comments and critique are welcome!
> 
>  
> 
> [Picture on deviantART](http://fav.me/d640kan)

 

 

Arthur knew that he paid too much attention to Merlin.  It was kind of obvious and a little shameful.  There was just something in the way his skin moved over sleek muscle that demanded Arthur’s avid attention.  It wasn’t that Merlin was the best dancer, that, at least, would have been an appropriate excuse, but there was something . . . odd about it, something real in the way his actions flowed one into the next.  It was infectious and pulled at Arthur until he wanted nothing more than to join in, to put his hands on Merlin, feel the movement underneath his fingers and smell the sweat dripping down his neck.

His eyes hungrily tracked the curve of Merlin’s spine and the way Gwaine’s hands bit into his waist as the two collided in choreographed intensity.  It was a battle, or close to, with the two pushing and pulling at one another in a way that made Arthur’s breath quicken in his chest.  As the music slowed, though, their movements started not to clash, but to conform, transforming into something symbiotic and sensual.  Yet there remained a passion to the dance that Arthur could only interpret as being an allusion to sex.  The thought of sex in conjunction with Merlin made blood flow to various parts of his body and Arthur shifted uncomfortably.

Glancing around guiltily, Arthur swallowed his embarrassment.  It wasn’t the fact that Merlin was a man.  Well, it was, but it was more the fact that it was Merlin than that Merlin was a man.  He had gone through the bisexuality crisis as a teenager and had come out of it relatively unscathed, but Merlin was part of the dance company and his father may turn a blind eye on occasion, but he would probably notice that kind of slight.  A fling with any of the dancers in the company was stupid (he had evidence to back that up) and one with a male dancer was enough to end his career with the company.  He didn’t doubt that his father would mete out swift and harsh punishment, regardless of their familial connection.  But none of that stopped him watching.

He was just about to head out for the day, taking his time with a towel over his shoulder and a water bottle in hand as he watched Merlin and Gwaine.  It was silly how jealous he felt of Gwaine.  He was a first soloist and Merlin’s understudy with a brash, almost unpolished skill, but Arthur would have liked to trade places with him, if only for a while, just so that he could have the chance to dance with Merlin.  While Merlin and Arthur shared one dance, Gwaine had at least three where he had his hands all over Merlin, an idea which gave Arthur the insane desire to pull Merlin away like a child unwilling to share his favorite toy.

It was unfounded because Merlin wasn’t even his in the first place.  The thought was odd, though, and Arthur wasn’t really sure why it hadn’t occurred to him before that he wanted Merlin to be his.  Not in a passing admiration of his particular (peculiar) brand of beauty, or as a desire for friendship, or even a quick fling.  He wanted Merlin to be his, in all the ways that a person could belong to another and he never wanted to let go.

The realization was so staggeringly intense that he inelegantly dropped his water bottle to roll across the room, spitting little droplets over the floor.  The tin coasted toward the opposite wall until it hit a dark shoed foot.  Lancelot looked down and picked it up, tossing it back to Arthur who fumbled to catch it.

“You all right, there?” he asked, walking over to lean against the wall where Arthur was standing to watch the others.  Well, to watch Merlin, mostly.

“Fine,” he dismissed, shaking his head, and looking back to Merlin and Gwaine who had missed Arthur’s uncharacteristic gracelessness.

“He’s a fine dancer,” Lancelot commented, following Arthur’s gaze.

“What?  Oh, yes, he is.  Though, not as impeccable as you.  Honestly I was surprised when of the two, father chose to promote Merlin over you,” Arthur said.  It was true, in that Lancelot was probably the most technically skilled dancer aside from Arthur himself, but he did see that there was something in Merlin that was worth taking note of.  Lancelot chuckled.

“You flatter me,” he said, “but Merlin is —“ Lancelot broke off, as though in search of the right word.

“Different?  Aggravating?  Useless?” Arthur supplied helpfully.

“Special,” Lancelot said, grinning over at Merlin.  “There’s something about him that draws people in.  You look at him and you know he can be trusted.”

Arthur frowned.  It was true enough.  Merlin did have an earnest feel to him, but “That has nothing to do with his place in the company.”

“Maybe,” Lancelot said, shrugging, “but there’s more to him than what’s on the surface, even you must see that.”

“More than what’s on the surface?” Arthur said, eyebrows raised, “More than a complete idiot who is so clumsy off the stage that I have no idea how he manages to preform the most simple of dances?”  Of course, he didn’t really mean it, he had watched Merlin long enough to know that he was _special_ as Lancelot put it, but there was no need for anyone else to know that.

“If you say so,” Lancelot said, giving Arthur a sly look that he couldn’t really read, “and, admittedly, he is a little dense sometimes.  Eventually, though, even he is going to notice that you have eyes for him.”

Arthur gaped as Lancelot straightened with a quick nod of his head and left the studio.  He was too dumbfounded to retort, and did another quick glance around the room, eyes falling once more on where Gwaine and Merlin were practicing a pas de deux, before he slunk out to change into street clothes.

“The absurdity,” Arthur muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair as he headed to his locker.  Lancelot was probably one of the more observant of the company, but still, if he noticed, and Morgana had at least guessed at it, who else knew?  Even without the constant pressure from his father, getting involved with Merlin, or merely having feelings for him, was a bad idea.  An ill feeling settled in his stomach and resolutely stayed until late that night.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, it's a bit of a cliffhanger. (And sorry, the picture isn't quite right. Merlin heard them speaking through the open door, but I couldn't get it to look how I wanted it to so I just left it.)
> 
> Comment and critique are always welcome!
> 
>  
> 
> [See the picture on deviantART](http://fav.me/d64q8gg)

Merlin was on his way back to his apartment from the supermarket when he heard a familiar voice and stopped.  He wasn’t sure where he recognized the woman’s voice from, but curiosity had always been his weakness, and he found himself walking toward a 24 hour coffee shop.

“It’s for Morgana’s sake, Cenred.  Don’t make me ask you twice.  She deserves to be at the top, she’s worked harder than anyone for it, and I will not have that little nobody ruining her chances at success, if it happens to mean Arthur Pendragon is caught in the crossfire, I really don’t care,” she continued.  The voice was coming from behind a partition in a secluded booth, and Merlin got into the line at the counter, trying get a better look.  From his vantage point, he could make out a handsome brunette man with dark eyes, facing a blonde woman whose face Merlin could not see.

“What can I get for you?” the barista asked with a wide smile.  Merlin’s head snapped around and he glanced quickly at the menu, ordering the first thing he saw.  He paid and thanked the woman when she handed him his drink, making his way carefully to a booth across from the pair.

“All right, I’ll do it, but this is going to cost you, woman,” Cenred said, though he didn’t look overly upset at the concept.

“You’re a good boy for me,” the woman cooed, fingers dancing across the table to cup his chin in a way that looked more controlling than affectionate.

“What do you want me to do, then?  I can’t just slip in and bloody them up a bit, that would be suicidal,” Cenred said.  The woman shrugged.

“You won’t have to.  Go to the studio after we’re finished, they should be finishing up practice soon.  Guinevere always takes the back exit out of the building closest to her bus stop.  Sometimes Arthur accompanies her and if he’s there, you’ll have to deal with him likewise.  Demand they give you their money or something, make it look like a robbery.  Just make sure you get Gwen, she’s the main problem.  I don’t care how far you go, just get the job done, Cenred, or I will not be happy,” she said the last in a near growl.

“Yes, my dear,” Cenred said, giving her a sharp smile.  The two stood suddenly and Merlin had to duck in his seat to keep from being seen.  As the blonde reached the door, though, she tucked her hair behind her ear and Merlin was able to get a good look at her face.  He recognized her instantly as the photographer that sometimes worked with Camelot Dance Company.  Her name was Morgause, and she happened to be the half-sister of Morgana.  

Merlin’s heart was pounding in his ears and he could feel his hands shaking where he was gripping his cup.  Were they serious?  If they were, then he had to do something.  The man, Cenred, was going to do something to Arthur and Gwen as they left the studio.  Dropping his untouched drink in the trash, Merlin stood on unsteady legs and rushed out the door.

The studio was only a couple blocks away, but he wasn’t sure if Morgause and Cenred had driven, so he ran.  He cut across a couple of the smaller streets against the light, but was held up trying to cross King’s avenue, where the traffic had picked up suddenly.  Glancing anxiously at his watch, Merlin noted that Gwen would probably have finished by now, and would be changing, at the very least.  The last bus left in a little over fifteen minutes, but she usually left early in order to be certain she didn’t miss it.

The light turned and Merlin was off again.  Two blocks.  He burst across the last street just as the light turned, ignoring the cars that honked as he passed.  He was in front of the building when he heard a scream and sped up.  No one on the street did anything more than glance into the alley and speed onward.

“Gwen!” he shouted as he rounded the corner.  Gwen looked over at him with wide, frightened eyes.

“Merlin!” she shouted, kicking her attacker in the knee, and trying to pass him.  The man wore a mask, but Merlin could tell it was Cenred by the peculiar black jacket he had been wearing in the coffee shop.  Merlin didn’t stop to think as he hurdled toward them.  Before Gwen took more than three steps, though, Cenred recovered.  He grabbed her around the waist and flung her to the ground.  Cenred turned, just as Merlin reached him, tackling him with a shoulder to the stomach.  The two went to the ground as Merlin yelled for Gwen to run.

“Stop,” Cenred yelled making another grab for her, but Gwen bolted for the studio doors, making it in before he could grasp the hem of her dress.  “Now you’ve done it, boy,” he growled.  Grabbing Merlin as they both struggled to their feet.  Merlin wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to do now, Cenred was bigger and muscled like a fighter, clearly the one with the upper hand.

“Don’t do this,” Merlin said.  “I’m sure Gwen has gone to call the cops!”

Cenred made an almost inhuman noise as he took Merlin by the collar and swung.  The blow to his jaw made his vision blur at the edges, but then the sound of a slamming door from inside made Cenred jump.  Merlin wasn’t sure how it happened, but the next thing he registered was a sharp crashing sound like breaking glass before his head cracked against the ground, and everything stopped.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [See the picture on deviantART](http://fav.me/d65fc67)  
>  (You guys are probably getting really irritated with the way I keep changing styles for the pictures, aren't you? XD)

 

Merlin’s eyes didn’t want to open, and when they did, it took a moment to comprehend where he was.  His mind was slow to work, taking in everything around him before filtering back to the last thing he remembered.  When his mind stuttered to a halt on the image of Gwen scrambling away from Cenred, he bolted upright in panic.  His head throbbed and he let out a quiet groan.

“Merlin!” someone shouted, soft hands coming up to clutch at his shoulder and face.  When his vision cleared enough to make out who it was, he lets out a sigh of relief.  Gwen’s hair was tied in a ponytail and she was wearing a loose grey sweatshirt with the triple crowns of the CDC on the breast.

“Are you all right?  What happened?” he asked, looking her over.  She didn’t appear to be hurt, but he had to be sure.

“Am I all right?” she asked incredulously.  “Oh, Merlin, I should be asking you that.”  She shook her head.  “I’m fine, you were so brave, thank you,” she said, voice filled with the same relief he felt, wrapping her arms around his neck.  Merlin squeezed her back, grinning.

“Good,” he said before repeating, “What happened.”

Gwen pulled back, looking at him from where she sat on the edge of his bed, and took his face between her hands.  Merlin grinned, taking her hands away.

“I’m glad you’re okay.  I was really worried, Merlin, it’s all my fault,” she said, smoothing Merlin’s hair like a worried mother.

“It’s not, Gwen, it was Cenred,” he said, suddenly remembering the specifics.

“Cenred?  How did you know?  Arthur and Lancelot happened to be in the studio when I called for help, but I didn’t know they’d already told you.”

“Told me?  No, I think this is the first time I’ve been conscious,” Merlin admitted, “I knew because I followed him there!”

“What?” Gwen said, shifting back and worrying at her lip.

“I overheard him talking to Morgause in that coffee shop a few streets north,” Merlin explained, running his hand through his hair until he hit a decent size knot at the back of his head and flinched.

“Morgause?  You mean Morgana’s sister?” Gwen said, shocked.

“Yeah, Morgause put him up to it.  Said she wanted you out of the way so that Morgana could have all of the major roles again,” Merlin said, feeling bad about having to tell Gwen this.  She was a sweet girl, and it was hard to give her bad news.

“Merlin!  Why didn’t you call the police?” she chastised.  “If it was that serious, he could have killed you!”

“He didn’t though, did he?” Merlin shrugged.  “Anyway, I didn’t have time to do anything but run after him.  I barely made it as it was.”

“Merlin, you are a fool,” she said, shaking her head albeit fondly.

“I see your awake,” came a dusty voice from the door.  Merlin’s head snapped over and Gwen jumped guiltily off the bed, straightening her jacket and nodding to the man, who Merlin assumed was the doctor.

“I’m Dr. Gaius, your attending physician,” the man said, walking over to Merlin’s side and checking something on a chart.  Merlin nodded and took the man’s hand when offered.  He didn’t look that much like a doctor with his hair as long as it was, but Merlin supposed that didn’t matter all that much.

“How are you feeling?” Gaius continued.  Merlin frowned, taking an internal inventory.

“A bit sore,” he said, rubbing gingerly at the back of his head, “but other than that, I feel all right.”

“Hmm,” Gaius murmured, scribbling on his clipboard, “That’s good to hear.  You have a fairly severe concussion, and you’ve managed to sprain your ankle rather seriously.  Considering what you’ve just been through, however, I am exceedingly pleased to hear you’re feeling all right.  Still, you’ll need to stay off of that leg for a good three weeks to prevent further injury.”

Merlin’s heart seemed to stop altogether for a moment, and he could feel the color draining from his face.

“Three weeks?” he said disbelievingly.  “I can’t.”

“You must,” Gaius said, giving Merlin a stern look.

“You don’t understand,” Merlin pleaded, shaking his head, “I’m a dancer!  I have performances to give!”

“I’m afraid that’s of no consequence,” Gaius said.  “If you want to recover, you will need to listen to me.  If you do not treat your body right, you may wind up ending your career entirely instead of for a few short weeks.”

With that, the man left the room.  When his attention turned to Gwen, she was staring at him pale-faced and wide-eyed, her hands clutching at her knees.  Merlin tried to give her a reassuring smile, it wasn’t her fault, after all, but he was pretty sure it came out as something closer to a grimace.  Gwen’s lip trembled and Merlin shook his head minutely.  He was saved from a heart to heart that he really wasn’t emotionally prepared for by a boisterous noise in the hall.

Merlin’s grin was genuine when practically the entire dance company  fell into his hospital room, led by a bickering Gwaine and Percival, Lancelot, Elyan, and Leon followed close behind.  Even Mordred, Merlin’s understudy in his dances with Gwaine was there, despite their not being the closest of friends.  Merlin laughed at all the attention, shaking his head abashedly and trying not to feel disappointed that Arthur had not come in with them.

“What are you all doing here?” Merlin asked.

“Making sure you’re all right, of course,” Gwaine said, grinning as he flipped his hair from his eyes.

“We had to sneak past a couple nurses on the way, but we managed to make it unscathed,” Percival said, glaring at Gwaine for some reason that Merlin had no intention of asking about.

“Shut up,” was Gwain’s eloquent reply.

“How are you?” Lancelot asked, coming around the bed to sit in a chair next to Gwen’s.  Merlin’s smile faltered at that and he shrugged one shoulder, staring at his hand where it was picking at the weave of the hospital blanket.

“It looks like I’m going to be an invalid for about three weeks,” Merlin said, trying to keep his tone light.

“Three weeks?” Lancelot repeated softly.  Merlin nodded, giving a half smile at his friend’s concerned expression.  No one seemed to know what to say to that, Gwaine looking like the statement didn’t compute, and a couple of the others shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.  Mordred, actually, was the one to break the silence.

“It could have been worse,” he said.  It was true, but the thought of _at least I’m not done for good_ , didn’t really make him feel any better.  “Knowing you, you’ll be fine in no time, anyway.  Besides, you’re Uther’s pet, it’s not like he’ll drop you for this.”  Merlin snorted.

“Don’t sound too put out, Mordred,” Merlin teased, “or I might think you actually cared.”  Mordred rolled his eyes, but the tension seemed to break and Merlin tried to enjoy the company, ignoring that the only thing he really wanted to do was cry.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, guys, sorry this one has taken so long! Thanks for reading, I hope you're enjoying it. :)
> 
>  
> 
> [All of the fanart can be viewed in my deviantART gallery.](http://taraprince.deviantart.com/gallery/43181972)
> 
> (Also, oops, didn't notice the missing L until just now. Forgive me but I'm too lazy to fix it.)

 

Arthur ground his teeth together.  He had heard through Guinevere the circumstances surrounding Merlin’s injury, and he couldn’t help but feel partially responsible.  There was so much turmoil in the company and it seemed to center around Arthur himself.  He knew that Morgana was having some . . . issues, but he had never guessed that it would go so far as plotting to harm another dancer.  Arthur thought that he knew her better than that.

And maybe the reason he was currently storming through the studio in pursuit of Morgana was half to distract himself from his own guilt and worry, but there was a certain part of him that honestly felt betrayed by Morgana’s actions.

“Arthur!” Morgana yelped upon his rather boisterous entrance to the women’s changing rooms.

“Why did you do it?” he yelled, grabbing her by the arms and giving her a rough shake.

“Why did I do what? Ouch, Arhur, stop!  That hurts,” she said, her eyes going wide as she tried to pry his fingers off of her.

“Merlin’s in the hospital because of you,” he growled.  Morgana’s eyes grew impossibly wider at that.

“What do you mean?  Why is he in the hospital?” she demanded with such ferocity that Arthur dropped his hold on Morgana and took a step back.

“Merlin intervened in the ambush on Guinevere,” Arthur said.

“Ambush?  Is she all right?  What’s going on, Arthur!”

“Cenred attacked Gwen last night on Morgause’s orders,” Arthur snapped, “Merlin heard her say she was doing it for you.”

“I had nothing to do with that!”  Morgana insisted, face paling.  “If Morgause did that, it was without my knowledge.  I would never hurt Merlin, he’s my friend.”

“Gwen is your friend too, but that doesn’t stop you from getting jealous and mean about it,” Arthur pushed.  Morgana’s jaw clenched and her hands balled into fists.

“Yes, all right, I _am_ jealous of Gwen getting the better roles, and I _am_ jealous of the notice her talent is getting, but I would never try to hurt her, if for no other reason than because something as rash as that could ruin my career.  You know that, Arthur,” she said darkly.  Arthur studied her for a long moment, eyes meeting until he forced his gaze away.

“Fine, I believe you.  But that doesn’t pardon your sister.  Merlin saw her talking to Cenred before he attacked Guinevere at the studio.  I’m going to speak with my father about having her banned from the studio at the very least, and you’ll have to speak with Merlin about what actions he’s taking.”

With that, Arthur stomped back out of the room, getting a strange look from Elain as he left.  The meeting with his father went more smoothly than he had anticipated.  Uther, it seemed, was furious that someone had the audacity to injure one of his dancers, and while Arthur might have hoped that he would show some actual concern for Merlin himself, that was about all he could expect from Uther.  He didn’t know what Merlin’s feelings were, but he was pretty sure that Uther was going to make the rest of Morgause’s and Cenred’s lives a living hell.  That alone made Arthur’s chest feel a little lighter.

The tightness returned, however, when he realized that he couldn’t really put off seeing Merlin anymore.  He grabbed a taxi to the hospital.  Arthur hated hospitals.  He remembered the last time he was in one, waiting for his mother to finally slip away.  Everything was white and stinking simultaneously of cleanliness and death, though perhaps that last part was just what he associated with it.  Either way, it wasn’t really where Arthur liked spending his weekends.

“Pardon me,” Arthur said amiably to the receptionist at the front desk, “I’m looking for Merlin Emrys’s room, do you think you could point me in the right direction?”

After some stuttering and blushing from the woman who clearly wanted to ask for his autograph, Arthur set off to find Merlin.  The main floor had a little attached shop filled with get well soon cards and children’s toys.  Arthur almost walked right past it, but something in the display window caught his eye.  It was a little stuffed bear with blue button eyes and ridiculously large ears.  Arthur laughed out loud at it’s resemblance to Merlin.  It had a plaster on one of its paws and a yellow jumper with “A bear hug would do you good” written on it in red blue letters.  After a moment’s hesitation, Arthur walked into the shop and grabbed the toy.  They were friends, right?  Arthur could give Merlin a silly present if he wanted to.  At least it was better than flowers.

Merlin was in a room in the temporary care ward, and Arthur found it without too much trouble, and definitely didn’t have to stop and ask for directions after missing the hall three times.  It wasn’t so much a room as a cell, Arthur thought.  The door was made of pale wood with a little rectangular window.  A loud bark of laughter made Arthur jump as he reached for the doorknob.  Biting his lip, he leaned to the side to peek into the room, trying to figure out if he should interrupt or come back later.

He craned his neck to see a pair of all too familiar brown ropers twitching rhythmically at the end of the bed.  Arthur leaned further in, his cheek pressing right up against the cool wood of the door.  Gwaine was sitting alongside Merlin on the too-narrow hospital bed, arm slung around Merlin’s shoulders.  Gwaine was speaking animatedly about something that Arthur couldn’t make out through the door.  Merlin laughed again, ducking his head and grinning over at Gwaine.  Something knotted in Arthur’s stomach as he watched them, seeing how close they were.  Not for the first time, Arthur wondered if maybe Merlin was gay, or at least not entirely straight.  Of course it didn’t do him much bloody good if he was already with Gwaine, did it?

“Don’t be so _stupid_ , Arthur,” he muttered to himself.  Of course nothing could ever come of his infatuation with Merlin.  It wasn’t like Merlin’s sexuality was the only thing standing between them.  Really, that was the least of his concerns.  Clenching his teeth, Arthur turned from the door and walked out of the hospital.  

It wasn’t until he reached his apartment that he realized he was still holding the ridiculous gift shop bear.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait on this, guys. If you're anxious for me to keep working on it, feel free to bother me, I work better under pressure. That said, I'll try to keep my progress updated on my [Writing Tumblr](http://caiprince13writing.tumblr.com/).
> 
> The art, as always, can be viewed in my [deviantART collection](http://taraprince.deviantart.com/gallery/43181972).

 

Merlin was filled with an unexpected affection when Gwaine showed up after everyone else had gone home.  He stood at the foot of Merlin’s bed with an almost guilty expression on his face that was a contrast to the one he had worn  during his earlier visit.  Merlin raised his eyebrow when Gwaine didn’t say anything for a few minutes.

“I hope you aren’t angry,” Gwaine said, that usually confident expression he wore replaced by the expression of a puppy that just chewed up the entire living room.

“Why would I be angry?” Merlin asked, giving his friend a half-smile that he hoped looked genuine, if a little tired.

“Because I’m going to be performing your part in Petrichor.  I know how much that part meant to you,” he said, shifting anxiously on his feet.

“It’s not your fault that I can’t perform,” Merlin said, running a hand through his hair.  “I’m the one who wasn’t careful.”

“You didn’t have a choice,” Gwaine insisted.  “You couldn’t have let anyone hurt Gwen.  It’s Morgana’s fault, really.”  His expression darkened, and Merlin couldn’t find it in himself to defend his friend.  She was, after all, the reason for all this.

“Maybe,” Merlin said, sighing and patting the bed beside him, “but it is what it is.  I’ll be fine in a couple weeks, and all of this will be in the past.”

“It just isn’t fair,” Gwaine said as he sat down on the bed beside Merlin.  “I’m not going to be able to fill your shoes, and everyone is going to be disappointed.”

“Oi, I’d say it’s still more disappointing for me,” Merlin said, grinning as Gwaine laughed, swinging an arm around his shoulder.

“You’re wrong there, mate.  I now have to do a duet with Arthur, and believe me, he’s going to be a right arse about it,” he said.  Merlin laughed, shaking his head, though he couldn’t really deny it.

“I’d be more worried about Mordred,” Merlin said, “he’s going to be pushing it since he finally has a place in the spotlight performing ‘Spring Falls.’”

Gwaine grimaced, but shook his head.

“Arthur will be worse,” Gwaine insisted, “He’s the one that was so looking forward to dancing with you.”  He punctuated this with a mischievous wink.  Merlin laughed nervously, ducking his head.  There was no reason for Arthur to be excited to dance with Merlin, he was the most amazing dancer in the company, and Merlin was just lucky to have made it as far as he had.

“I’m serious,” Gwaine said.  He studied Merlin for a moment with narrow eyes.  “If I tell you a secret, will you swear to god, that you’ll keep it?  Especially from Uther Pendragon?”

Merlin frowned before giving a simple, “Yes.”

“I know Arthur pretty well,” Gwaine said, and that was probably true.  Gwaine had been in the company longer than anyone, beside Arthur.  He may not have been the best dancer, but he was definitely one of the core components.  

“While Arthur has had his fair share of girlfriends, I don’t think that he’s ever been as fond of anyone as he is of you,” Gwaine continued, eyeing Merlin as though to gauge his response, which must have registered as confusion, because Merlin had no clue what Gwaine was getting at.

“We’re friends,” Merlin confirmed with a frown, but Gwaine shook his head, a hapless grin on his face.

“That’s not really what I meant,” he said.  “I meant he’s really fond of you.”

“I’m glad?” Merlin said, the lilt at the end making it sound more like a question than he intended.

“For god’s sake, Merlin,” Gwaine said, rolling his eyes.  “I mean he bloody fancies you!”

“What?” Merlin said, unable to keep himself from laughing at that assessment.  “Gwaine, Arthur Pendragon, does not fancy me.  He’s not gay, and besides, he hasn’t even come to see if I’m all right, clearly he’s not too concerned.”  Merlin hoped that most of the bitterness had stayed out of his tone.

Gwaine shrugged noncommittally and watched as his boot sway back and forth to an imagined beat.  A sharp rap at the door made them both jump, swinging their heads around to see who was intruding.  Merlin sucked in a sharp breath when the dark, hesitant head of Morgana poked through the door.  Gwaine was up in an instant with a look of terrifying hatred on his face that Merlin had never seen before.

“What are you doing here?” Gwaine demanded, striding toward Morgan who backed up against the door as it swung closed.

“I came to see Merlin,” she said, trying and failing to keep her pompous tone in place.

“Get out!” Gwaine demanded, pulling her away from the door and opening it to force her through.

“Wait!” she cried, pulling her way desperately around Gwaine to see Merlin.  “Wait!  Merlin, you have to listen to me!  I didn’t know what she was doing, I swear!  I had nothing to do with it!”  The last was delivered with a sob, earnest eyes meeting Merlin’s.

“Let her in, Gwaine,” he said, though he was tempted to let the man boot her from the room.

“What do you want, Morgana?” he asked, noting that his voice sounded tired, even to his own ears.

“I only just heard from Arthur that you were here.  I didn’t know that she would do something like that, and I certainly didn’t ask her to,” Morgana insisted, hovering beside his bed with hands clasped in front of her.  Merlin felt an uneasy pang at the mention of Arthur who hadn’t even been to see him.

“Why did she do it, then?” Gwaine demanded.

“I don’t know!  She’s not a bad person,” Morgana insisted, wringing her hands, “she’s just a little over-protective of me.  She knew I was jealous of Guinevere and I guess she was trying to help.  I promise that I never meant for anyone to get hurt!”

“And now you’re defending her,” Gwaine scoffed.  Merlin watched as Morgana’s brows furrowed and she shook her head.

“No,” she said, “What she did was wrong, but she was trying to look out for me.”

“I believe you,” Merlin said, quietly.  Morgana looked at him, her eyes wide and hopeful.

“I never wanted you to get hurt, Merlin,” she said, and Merlin was surprised to see tears in her eyes.  “You’re my friend.”

She shrugged, biting her lip, then turning on her heel and storming out the door as quickly as she had come.

“Well,” Gwaine said.  “I guess we know why Arthur was too busy to come see you.”

Merlin nodded, staring past Gwaine at the door where Morgana had disappeared back through the hospital.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been forever, but I'm finally giving you another chapter. Be glad you don't read my Teen Wolf fanfiction, it's been even longer for them. This month is NaNoWriMo, so I'll be working a lot on my original work, but I'll try to update my fanfictions as well.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

Merlin sighed as he flipped his computer on. He was still hobbling around on a sore ankle, but at least he was out of the hospital. Gwen had managed to get him a ticket to watch the ballet from the front row, even if he couldn't be in it. He appreciated the thought and he wanted to support his troupe, but inside he resented it just a little. It was a petty feeling, but he had worked so hard for this performance and was now about to miss it.

As the evening wore on, Merlin pulled on a white button-up and a pair of pressed black slacks, pulling one shoe on over his un-bandaged foot. He didn't even bother with the other one, his foot being far to sore and swollen. His apartment was only a short walk from the theatre, but Gwen had insisted he call a taxi anyway, so at 6:15, Merlin climbed into the cab and gave directions to the driver.

An odd feeling settled over him as he pushed through the front doors instead of entering from the back with the rest of CDC. He felt more out of place than he could describe as he stared around the richly furnished lobby. The crowd spoke in a hushed roar. There were a few young people in the audience, but it consisted primarily of older men and women wearing nice suits and pearls with cologne that stung Merlin's nose.

The seats to his left were empty, but to his right a girl that could be no older than eleven or twelve had her back to him as she spoke animatedly to what was probably an elder sister.

"I can't wait to see them," the younger girl was saying. "Do you think that Merlin will be here?" Merlin could feel his ears heating as he he heard his name, feeling inexplicably ashamed that he was going to disappoint this little girl. The sister, probably in her late teens, glanced up as the little girl went on about her excitement at seeing the play and for an instant, their eyes met. She looked nothing but shocked for a moment, but then her lips broke into a smile. The expression caused the little girl to quiet and turn to see what her sister was looking at. It took only  a fraction of a second for her eyes to widen and her lips to part in a circle.

"Oh," she said, though she didn't seem to be able to articulate anything further.

"Hello," Merlin said cheerfully, smiling at the girl's surprise.

"Oh," she repeated. "You're Merlin Emrys! You're the greatest dancer in the world, better than Vaslav Nijinsky,  and Mikhail Baryshnikov, and Rudolf Nureyev."

Merlin grinned bashfully despite himself. "Thank you," he said, "but I don't know if that's a fair comparison."

"No, it’s true,” the little girl insisted, "You are the most beautiful dancer I’ve ever seen.”

"That means a lot to me," Merlin said, chuckling to himself. He glanced up to the sister who just shrugged.

“I don’t honestly know anything about ballet, my sister is the expert,” she said, smiling proudly at the little girl and running a hand down her gentle curls.

"My name's Clara," the little girl said, “and this is my sister Margret. I want to be a ballerina when I grow up. I've been to all of your performances since I saw you in _Bolero_ , and I hope I can be as good as you one day."

Merlin's eyes widened in shock. That was his second performance ever, before he even came to Camelot Dance Company. The girl couldn’t have been more than eight when he’d been in that performance. Still, it was oddly flattering that he had such a dedicated fan. Clara bit her lip then glanced down at her program.

“Um,” she said, suddenly sounding nervous, “Would you mind signing this for me?” Merlin glanced down at the program she was holding, frowning slightly.

“Are you sure you want me to sign it? I won’t even be performing. I had a bit of an accident and hurt my ankle,” he explained. Clara glanced down at his feet with furrowed brows.

“Would you mind signing it anyway?” she asked again, worrying at her lip.

“I—all right,” Merlin stammered, taking the program and the pen that Margret offered to him. He wrote a quick note to Clara and scribbled his signature across it, then handed it back to the little girl. She smiled at him looking for all the world like he’d handed her the moon.

“Thank you,” she said almost reverently. “I’m sorry you won’t be in the ballet, but this is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Merlin never got a chance to respond as the orchestra began playing, signaling the start of the ballet. The production was up to par with everything produced by CDC, but when it came to the parts he should have been performing, he couldn’t help but feel they were ever so slightly off. Mordred’s technical skill was superb, but Merlin thought that he wasn’t giving it the right emotion, and Gwaine’s movements were so free and wild, that they didn’t have the same delicate perfection that he felt they deserved.

It wasn’t until the duet with Arthur came, however, that he really regretted his injury. His hand anxiously gripped the arm of his chair as he watched the steps, counting in his head. Arthur was stunning as ever, his movements fluid and regal, and Gwaine’s abruptness complimented that in a way, but Merlin wished he could be the one performing. When he and Arthur danced, Merlin felt that there was something more to it. His mother had once described them as being two sides of the same coin, things that were just meant to go together.

By the time Merlin was hobbling to his feet to give a standing ovation, he was almost regretting having saved Gwen. After that thought he immediately began feeling guilty. Of course saving Gwen was the right thing to do, and of course he’d do it again, but he wished that helping other people didn’t come at such a high personal cost. Something good came out of it, though, Merlin supposed. He had made a little girl and dedicated fan very happy, so really he had nothing to complain about. He would heal and be back in time for their next performance, which he would get a good role in and work even harder than he had in this one.

“Merlin!” Gwaine called, making his way over to where Merlin waited outside the changing rooms, a bouquet of roses in his hands. Merlin gave his friend a cocky grin and handed the flowers to him. Gwaine looked momentarily startled, but pleased nonetheless.

“Thank you for filling in for me. You were wonderful,” Merlin said. Gwaine grinned and pulled him into a hug, almost knocking Merlin off his crutches.

“I don’t know why you’re thanking me, Merlin,” he laughed as he pulled back, eyes crinkling with mirth, “You would have been much better, but I suppose we have to work with what we’re given.”

“You and Arthur have an interesting chemistry, though,” Merlin observed, “I’ve never seen you two dance anything quite like that, before.”

Gwaine rolled his eyes, “Arthur certainly didn’t think so.”

“Was he being a prat again?” Merlin asked, though he was smiling. Gwaine gave him a look that was clearly in the affirmative.

“I don’t know how you put up with him,” he said, throwing an arm around Merlin’s shoulders. “I would have pushed him in front of a train if I’d had to work as closely with him as you do.”

“You wouldn’t have, though,” Merlin pointed out, “Because then Uther would promote Mordred.”

Gwaine grimaced. Merlin glanced around, but didn’t see Arthur anywhere. He had wanted to congratulate him, but it looked as though they had missed one another. Merlin tried not to let his disappointment show.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter of Petrichor, a bit of a late Christmas present for Kinsara! Hope you enjoy it!  
> We're coming to a close pretty soon, everything will be posted before Valentine's Day. It's been a pleasure writing for you, and thank you all for your kudos and comments!

 

Arthur knew Gwen had managed to get Merlin a ticket to the ballet, and for some reason that thought made him outdo himself. He had given the performance his all, and, for reasons that would remain unexamined, the little stuffed bear had found its way into the bag that was currently tucked safely in his locker.

As soon as he was able after the ballet, Arthur slipped away from his significant crowd of admirers and into the changing room. He grabbed his bag from the locker and rummaged inside until he found the little plushy. Pulling it free, Arthur stared at it. It was ridiculous that he so strongly felt the need to give it to Merlin. The man was hardly a child in need of a toy to cheer him up. It was probably just the guilt of having never properly wished Merlin a speedy recovery. The one time he had persuaded himself to go to the hospital, Merlin had already had company.

Arthur made his way into the surprisingly crowded hallway by the dressing rooms, trying to see around several of the giants in their company to spot Merlin. It didn’t take long for him to set his eyes on him. But when did it ever? Merlin was leaning half on the wall behind him and half on his crutches, foot resting gingerly on the ground. He was carrying a ridiculous bouquet of flowers and looking anxiously around for someone. Arthur didn’t flatter himself that he was the one Merlin’s eyes were searching for, but thought that it might be as good an opportunity as any to give him the little gift. He could hardly continue avoiding him, after all.

“Merlin!” a voice shouted from the opposite side of the hall. Gwaine, his hair loose about his face now that the performance was over, romped over to Merlin who grinned, shoving the bouquet in the other man’s face. There was a split second of surprise before Gwaine grinned and pulled Merlin into his arms. Arthur could hear Merlin’s laugh from here. He watched for a little longer, ignoring the twisting in his gut, hoping that Gwaine would be called away so he could have a private word with Merlin.

It was a bit silly that he did not want to approach them together, but he did not want it to be transparent that he liked Merlin, or make it seem like he was making advances toward him if he was . . . well, _involved_ with Gwaine. Unfortunately, he never got the chance to approach him as he saw Uther, glaring regally down at them in a well-fitted suit, clearly waiting for him. With one last glance at Merlin, Arthur sighed and followed Uther toward a crowd men and women in fitted suits and designer dresses.

“My son, Arthur Pendragon,” Uther introduced and Arthur was suddenly thrown into the middle of a barrage of questions and congratulations, and one rather firm arse-grab.

“Where did you get that ridiculous thing?” Uther asked after the crowd had dissipated, gesturing to the teddybear that was still clutched in Arthur’s palm. Arthur glanced down at the offending toy and shrugged.

“It was a gift,” he said, which was technically not a lie. Uther scoffed, then clapped Arthur on the shoulder.

“I’m proud of you, son, you did very well,” he said, his lips curving into as much of a smile as the man ever managed. Arthur’s returned smile was stiff at best. He couldn’t help the churning of his stomach at the thought of disappointing Uther with his crush on Merlin. Suddenly he felt very foolish and wanted nothing more than to drown himself in the rain that had started to pour outside.

“Thank you, Father,” he said. “I’ll go change, now.”

Without looking back at Uther, Arthur bolted back to the changing rooms. He pulled on his clothes as quickly as possible, stuffing everything in his duffle, except for the stupid bear which he could not seem to put down.

“Arthur!” a familiarly cheerful voice called after him. Heart sinking, Arthur turned around, tucking the bear quickly behind his back, though he did not think that it escaped Merlin’s attention.

“Merlin,” he said brusquely. Fidgeting with the bear behind his back.

“What’s that? A gift from an admirer?” he teased, gesturing at the toy.

“Shut up, Merlin,” he snapped, feeling his face redden. Merlin’s expression changed into something confused and maybe a bit hurt, though Arthur tried to ignore the answering feeling in his gut. The other man snapped out of it quickly though, the goofy smile returning.

“I wanted to congratulate you,” he said, making Arthur feel like an arse, “You were wonderful out there.”

Arthur watched Merlin’s mouth for a bit too long after he had stopped speaking, then turned from Merlin, shrugging. “Thank you,” he said, probably more shortly than was necessary, but he was afraid that if he stayed any longer, he would grab Merlin and do something that they would both regret. He brushed past, almost glad that Merlin was injured because he could not keep pace as Arthur bolted from the building.

His ears were still burning as he tried not to think about what his father’s reaction would have been if he had tried anything with Merlin. He could keep Merlin and Gwaine’s secret, they were both talented dancers and didn’t deserve to be kicked out because of their involvement with one another, but Arthur could not believe that he had entertained the thought of actively betraying his father in that way. By the time he reached his flat, his hands were shaking and he realized that he had forgotten all of his things back at the theatre. Cursing to himself, Arthur collapsed on the sofa, tossing the bear across the room where it landed on the television, its sad blue eyes staring mockingly back at him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! It's only half my fault. I'll still have the rest of the story up by Valentine's Day!

 

Merlin stared after Arthur for a long while after he stormed out. He hadn’t meant to offend him with his questions about the toy, but that was the trouble with Arthur, sometimes he was really sensitive about things. It didn’t help that Merlin was also feeling a little sensitive about the idea that Arthur might have an _admirer_ that gave him cute little stuffed toys and that that admirer was not Merlin. Besides that, Arthur was trying to hide it from Merlin. Even though he knew that Arthur did not return Merlin’s particular fondness, he had thought that they were at least friends. It seemed that Arthur was trying to push him away, and Merlin couldn’t for the life of him think why.

“Merlin?” Lance’s voice called him out of his thoughts and he turned clumsily on his crutches, mustering as much of a smile as he could. “What are you still doing here?”

“I could ask you the same.”

“Waiting for Arthur?” he said, and Merlin was pretty sure there was a hint of pity in that voice. He scoffed and shook his head.

“That dollop head? No, I was just making sure that I hadn’t left anything here,” he said before realizing that he had not been here earlier due to injury and that was an obvious lie. Lancelot gave him a look.

“Really?” he said dryly and Merlin felt his ears redden.

“Okay, maybe I was waiting for Arthur,” he admitted. Lancelot gave him another look, this one bordering on pity.

“In that case, I’ve just seen him leave so you might as well go home,” Lancelot said. Merlin shrugged.

“I figured as much, he was just here. He left in a bit of a hurry,” he said, grimacing. 

“Did something happen?” Lance asked, good natured concern peppering his tone. Merlin shrugged, glancing absently toward the door.

“I’m not sure,” Merlin said, “I think I upset him, but I’m not sure how. He seemed pretty angry when he left.”

“I doubt that it was your fault, Merlin,” Lance tried, though he looked troubled about Arthur’s behavior.

“That’s not what it seemed like,” Merlin said. “I think he was angry that I saw the teddybear he got from a fan.”

“Arthur got a teddybear?” Lancelot asked, brows raising to his hairline. Merlin nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, trying to smile as he imagined the image going through Lancelot’s head, “I think it might have been from someone more than a fan, too.” He thought his smile might have faltered a little at that, but Lance did not seem to have noticed.

“I doubt that,” Lancelot said dismissively, “in all the time I’ve known Arthur, he’s never once gotten involved with one of his fans. Besides, I think he has someone else in mind.”

“Who? He broke up with Morgana. Is it Gwen?” Merlin said, morbidly curious though he doubted he really wanted to know the answer. Lance’s look turned sad again as he watched Merlin.

“Stop giving me that look,” he said, trying to brush it off, “I’ll get over it. I’ll get over him,” he insisted, both to Lance and himself.

“I’m going to give you some advice that you once gave me,” Lance said, a sheepish grin on his face, “He might feel the same, but you’ll never know if you don’t ask him.”

“You asked Gwen out, then?” Merlin said, an honest grin pulling at his lips.

“I did, and she said yes,” Lancelot said, his face the picture bliss. “But we weren’t talking about that.”

Merlin’s face fell and he gave a rather despondent shrug. “You know why it’s different. There is more than just rejection on the line, Lance. I can’t say anything.”

“Arthur wouldn’t say anything, if that’s what you are afraid of,” he said. Merlin bit his lip. He hated to doubt Arthur’s honor in this way, but he thought that Arthur’s loyalty lay more with his father than with Merlin.

“I can’t take the chance. Dancing is my world. I don’t know what I would do if I got kicked out of the CDC.”

“You might be right,” he said, shaking his head, eyes sweeping around then settling on something in the middle of the room. 

“Isn’t that Arthur’s bag?” he said with creased brows, nodding his head toward one of the changing room benches. Merlin glanced over to see Arthur’s ridiculously red duffle. The man seemed to be unaware that there was any other color.

“I guess he’ll have to come back for it. Should we call him and tell him that it’s still here?” Merlin said, shrugging, pondering the oddity of Arthur being quite so remiss. Lancelot shook his head then walked past Merlin to grab the bag.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just drop by his flat and give it to him,” Lance said, giving Merlin what felt suspiciously like a consoling squeeze on the shoulder rather than a purely friendly one. “You have a way home?” he checked.

“I’m taking a cab,” Merlin affirmed. “I’ll see you later. It shouldn’t be too long before I’m back in the company showing you all up with my amazing skills.”

“I look forward to it, Merlin,” he said, laughing. Merlin watched him go, then slowly made his way beck out of the theatre to catch a cab back to his apartment. He tried not to dwell on the teddybear he had seen Arthur holding, but it was difficult. The bear seemed to symbolize everything he couldn’t have, and he felt guilty for begrudging Arthur his happiness, but he still sort of hoped that he would turn his world upside down and see Merlin as something more than a friend . . . or maybe just a colleague. The thought stung in the back of his eyes and he closed them, rubbing the weariness from his lids.

Making his way up the four flights of stairs to his apartment was not fun with crutches, but the elevator had been out of commission for about a week now, and by the time he reached his front door he was about ready to crawl into bed and just stay there until the world stopped turning. Unable to even find it in himself to make it to his bed, Merlin collapsed on the couch, kicking his shoe off and watching it fly across the room to land neatly in the bookcase. He snorted, undoing the buttons of his shirt so that he could awkwardly squirm out of it and throw it in a pile on the floor. Merlin sighed and let his eyes slip shut. At least he didn’t have to see Arthur tomorrow. He could pretend for one more night that nothing was wrong.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for you! I actually have the last one ready to put up too, but I'm trying to decide whether I should save it for later this week. It's my favorite. <3

 

“Arthur, it’s me, Lance. You forgot your bag, so I’ve brought it to you,” Lancelot’s voice called from the speaker. Arthur sighed, running a hand through his freshly washed hair and buzzed him in. He had just donned his most comfortable pair of flannel pajamas and a practical pair of slippers when Lance had rung, but he wasn’t overly concerned about his appearance. Lance had apparently come straight from the studio, because, while he wore street clothes, his face was still covered in an alarming smattering of stage makeup. Lance shoved Arthur’s bag into his chest hard enough to make Arthur grunt and pushed past him into the hall. Frowning, Arthur closed the door and followed Lance into the living room where he was standing, arms crossed and an impressive scowl on his face. 

“What’s your problem?” Arthur asked, already feeling defensive. Lance let out a long sigh and gave the teddy bear sitting on the television a raised eyebrow. Arthur ignored the rising heat in his cheeks.

“You are my problem, just now,” Lancelot said, his voice uncharacteristically sharp, “You’ve been treating Merlin like dirt ever since he ended up in the hospital. If I didn’t already know better I might think that you were angry with him. No, doubt that’s what he thinks. I wouldn’t be surprised if he thought you were angry that he could not perform.”

“What?” Arthur said, eyes snapping to Lance. He hadn’t really thought about what Merlin might think of Arthur’s behavior. “That’s ridiculous. It was hardly Merlin’s fault.”

“As I said, I happen to have a pretty good guess about why you’re acting like an arse and Merlin has yet to jump to that conclusion so far as I know,” Lance said cooly, “But this needs to stop anyway. I know you’ve made him feel like crap and he really doesn’t need that after all this, not from you. You’re lucky he’s so fond of you.”

“What would you have me do?” Arthur said, grimacing as he tugged his fingers through his damp hair. He hadn’t meant to hurt Merlin, but in retrospect he could see that he had managed that. “I can’t look at him without hoping — Without missing him, even though he’s right there. For both of our sakes I don’t want to do anything stupid.”

“You already are. You aren’t going to solve anything by letting him slip away. You’ve never been a coward, Arthur, don’t start now. Tell him that you love him, because he deserves to know.”

“But he doesn’t feel the same,” Arthur sighed, slumping onto the couch.

“Does it matter?”

“It will make things strange between us,” Arthur muttered, the words tasting bitter in his mouth.

“You know him better than that,” Lance snapped, taking a seat on one of the armchairs. “He’s a good man and he has more respect for you than that.”

“What if I’m the one who makes it weird?” Arthur asked, pressing his hands to his eyes as his head fell back against the sofa.

“He’ll get over it. He’s nothing if not stupidly forgiving.”

Arthur snorted then inhaled deeply, holding it for a second before letting it out in a slow stream. Lancelot’s indignant righteousness was thick in the air and somewhere inside Arthur knew he was right. He might not be able to admit it to his friend, Merlin was the only one who could ever get Arthur to admit his faults, but that did not mean he couldn’t recognize when he was wrong.

Something must have shown on his face because Lance’s shoulders slumped and the anger left his face as he stood, walking over to the telly. Arthur glanced up and had to fight back the urge to indignantly grab the bear from his hand. It was Merlin’s bear, though Arthur had yet to give it to him, and seeing Lancelot holding it made something click inside Arthur’s head.

“I’ll go now,” Lance said softly, “But I really hope you’ll talk to him. You both deserve better than this and it drives me up the wall.” Lance’s lips quirked in the almost sad way that he had. Arthur nodded slowly.

“You should take your own advice,” Arthur replied sincerely. Lance studied his face for a moment then gave a slow nod.

“Maybe I already have.” With that he tossed the bear into Arthur’s lap. Arthur stared at the toy for a long while, only vaguely hearing the sound of the door shutting as Lance left.

“I’m sorry, Merlin,” Arthur muttered into the silence, stroking the bear’s velvety ears with a little smile tugging his lips. He sat there for a long time deliberating. His heart hammered anxiously in his chest and he could feel his stomach roil with the type of fear he felt the first time he had performed on stage.

Finally, Arthur took a steadying breath and stood. He grabbed his keys and hurried out the door. It was probably rude to go calling at this hour, but it would only be once and Merlin would just have to get over it. Maybe he’d be too asleep to notice that Arthur was making a huge fool of himself, or even pass it off as a dream in the morning. Not that Arthur’s luck would allow that.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys, the last chapter! I want to thank everyone for reading and I hope you enjoy the conclusion of Petrichor!
> 
> I'm doing things a little differently this time, and you only get a preview of the picture at the beginning (because I don't want to spoil anything) and the full picture will be at the end.
> 
> Again, thank you so much for reading, it was a pleasure writing this!
> 
> \--Cai

 

Something loud startled Merlin into wakefulness but when he opened his eyes, everything was dark. He fumbled for his bedside table to check the time when he realized that he was sleeping on the couch and his phone was probably the thing poking him in the rear. Grumbling half-heartedly, he pulled it out of his pocket. It was 2:30 in the morning. A rather unnecessarily loud knock at the door made Merlin jump, he swung his legs off the couch and, balancing on his good leg, made to hop over to the door to let in whatever drug dealer or serial killer was waking him up at this hour. Unfortunately, he found his crutches half way between the couch and the door. Merlin gave a rather unmanly yelp as he went sprawling with a crash that probably woke up half the building.

“Merlin?” a concerned voice called from the other side of the door. Merlin briefly wondered if he was dreaming because that voice had sounded a lot like Arthur’s. Merlin half crawled to the door and opened it, squinting in the light from the hallway and trying to make out the blurry face.

“What are you doing here?” Merlin asked dumbly when he registered that it was in fact Arthur Pendragon standing on his doorstep. Arthur was looking rather ruffled, his hair sticking up at odd angles and he was clothed in a rather undignified pair of flannel pajamas. He was even wearing slippers, though they were rather boringly practical and not anything Merlin could use to tease him about later.

“Did you need something?” Merlin reiterated, voice thick with sleep. Arthur’s eyes snapped up from where they had been wandering down Merlin’s bare chest and the fact that Merlin hadn’t noticed said something about how functional his brain was just now.

“Well . . .” Arthur said, his voice trailing off abruptly. Merlin noticed the anxious fidgeting of his hands and glanced down to see the stuffed bear from the studio. His eyes rose in bemusement and he wondered why Arthur thought that 2:30 in the morning was an appropriate time to explain about his new fling. Merlin manfully ignored the uncomfortable prickling that that thought evoked. Arthur noticed his gaze and shoved the bear into Merlin’s chest as though it had burned him. His eyes so wide he almost looked panicked. Merlin glanced down at the bear, half expecting it to explode or something.

“That is for you,” Arthur grumbled rather unnecessarily, “Are you going to invite me in?”

“Um . . .” Merlin said, blinking at the toy in confusion. It was far too early for this and his brain wasn’t really keeping up with the proceedings. Arthur rolled his eyes and simply pushed past Merlin, who stumbled, trying to avoid putting his healing foot down. Realizing the issue, Arthur grabbed Merlin rather perfunctorily around the waist and steadied him, groping for the light switch with his other hand.

“Er, thanks,” Merlin said, trying to suppress the shiver that crawled down his spine at Arthur’s hand touching the bare skin at his hip. Arthur’s eyes darted away from Merlin’s and landed on the crutches tangled in his shirt.

“What on earth were you doing?” Arthur asked, his tone mocking, though he moved to pick them up anyway after having made sure Merlin was securely leaning against the door.

“Sleeping,” Merlin said pointedly. Arthur’s expression returned to being rather uncomfortable, which in turn made Merlin uncomfortable. After a long, nearly painful silence, Merlin took pity on him and held up the bear questioningly.

“What’s this for then?”

“That’s for you,” he repeated unnecessarily, “I meant to give it to you sooner. It was at the hospital shop. It reminded me of you. I think it’s the ears.”

Merlin frowned down at the creature with its unnaturally large ears, wondering whether that was sweet or insulting. He noticed, too, for the first time that it had a little plaster on one of its legs and the rather ugly yellow sweater read “A Bear Hug Would Do You Good.” From Arthur it probably counted as sweet, though the two things were sometimes rather closer together than one would expect. As he processed Arthur’s words, though, his brows drew together.

“Hang on,” he said, “you were at the hospital? You clotpole, you never came to see me,” Merlin accused. Arthur looked down, shrugging almost apologetically.

“I did,” he sniffed, “but you already had company and I didn’t want to intrude.” He gave Merlin a significant look that Merlin could not decipher.

“I had a lot of visitors. Even your father dropped by, though that was an experience I’d rather not think about. You wouldn’t have disturbed us.”

Arthur sighed, giving Merlin the look he gave whenever Merlin was being particularly dense, though it was entirely unwarranted just now. “You were with Gwaine,” he said, emphasizing the last word. Merlin stared at him blankly.  Finally Arthur sighed and continued, “I thought you two might want to be alone.”

Merlin continued to stare, his confusion growing. Arthur gave a frustrated huff and ran a hand through his already mussed hair. Merlin tried not to let that distract him but was doing such a poor job of it that he almost missed what Arthur said next entirely. 

“I bloody mean that I thought you might like to have some time alone with your boyfriend,” Arthur said, his voice irritable as he gave Merlin a familiarly condescending look. Merlin laughed.

“Right, very funny,” he said, his face falling when Arthur didn’t seem amused. “You aren’t serious, are you? Gwaine’s not my boyfriend.”

“You don’t need to hide it, Merlin, I’m not going to tell anyone,” he said, giving a curiously resigned sigh.

“No, that’s not it,” Merlin assured, “I wouldn’t lie about that. I’m really not dating Gwaine. He’s not really my type.”

“You have a type?” Arthur asked incredulously, though he appeared to be cautiously curious.

“Yeah, the type that washes their socks more than once a year,” Merlin said, and to his relief Arthur’s lips quirked.

“Not Gwaine, then,” he chuckled. Merlin grinned back, finally remembering his manners and gesturing to the sofa.

“Won’t you sit? I’ll throw on the kettle,” he said, trying to move past Arthur to the kitchen. A warm hand quickened around his shoulder, holding him back. Merlin looked back, surprised by the expression on Arthur’s face, on anyone else it would have appeared vulnerable, but on Arthur it just looked sad.

“Don’t, I won’t keep you much longer. I actually came here to tell you something.”

“Well?” Merlin prompted when Arthur seemed disinclined to continue.

“You’re such an idiot, Merlin, it drives me mad,” he said in the long suffering way he had. Merlin gaped.

“You came here at two thirty in the morning to tell me that I’m an idiot?” he asked in disbelief, then wondering why he was surprised. Arthur often told him he was an idiot.

“No, I didn’t come here to tell you that,” Arthur snapped. “I came here to tell you that you are an idiot for never realizing that I love you.”

There was a painful minute of silence as Merlin tried to process what he heard. When it finally dawned on him what Arthur was saying, his heart did a little jump and he gaped wide-eyed at Arthur.

“I’m sorry, you what?” he said, trying to crush the hope swelling in his chest in case he had somehow misinterpreted the words.

“I. Love. You. Idiot,” Arthur growled. Merlin nodded, a grin spreading across his face. “I’m also supposed to apologize for being an arse. But I don’t apologize.”

“Do I get a bear hug at least?” Merlin said, holding up the toy in a shaking hand. He did not wait for a response, instead dropping one of his crutches in favor of grabbing Arthur by the lapel of his unbecoming flannel pajamas and tugging him until their lips crushed painfully together. Arthur made a soft noise of protest when his nose bonked against Merlin’s cheekbone. The sound quickly turned into one of contentment, though, when Merlin broke away and feathered his lips softly against Arthur’s. Merlin wondered briefly if this could possibly be real.

The other crutch fell to the floor when Arthur’s hand snaked around his waist and there was no way he could have made up the feeling of Arthur pressed against him, the buttons of his awful pajamas scratching against Merlin’s bare chest.

“I love you,” Merlin whispered, backing away to look into the startling blue of Arthur’s eyes, his hand stroking down Arthur’s cheek, fingers rasping against the blond stubble. Arthur licked his lips, studying Merlin’s face for a moment before his lips parted in the most genuine smile Merlin had ever seen from him.

“I love you too, Merlin,” he returned, pulling Merlin closer and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

“I guess I should have known. The teddy bear is pretty sappy,” Merlin teased, giving Arthur his best shit-eating grin. To his credit, though, Arthur just smiled back.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Readers,
> 
> I hope you have enjoyed reading the Petrichor. Admittedly, I know practically nothing about Ballet, and did my best with what I could whip up in a couple days. I am always willing to hear from those who have more knowledge on the subject, and if there is anything that I do totally wrong, I'd love for you to let me know. Unfortunately, some things will remain the same because "plot device, Mr. Frodo, plot device." I will, however change anything that I can to more accurately portray a ballet company.
> 
> Also, I'm painfully American, so please forgive any stupid mistakes in my dialogue etc..
> 
> Please comment and critique, I'd love to hear what you think! :)
> 
> If you are curious about the progress of this fanfiction, go ahead and comment, but I will also try to keep my progress updated on my [Writing Tumblr](http://caiprince13writing.tumblr.com/).
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [I also wrote a Valentine's Day Special!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1193820)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [Here is the fic that inspired me to write this. So if you want some more Merthur Ballet AU, go check this out!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1016279)


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